Type O
by Alex Foster
Summary: Faith goes hunting.


Title: Type O

Author: Alex Foster

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Category: General

Setting: Before the events of Buffy Season Eight Issue #6: No Future For You

Rating: R

Summary: Faith goes hunting.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Mutant Enemy, Dark Horse, and Joss Whedon. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: This is my entry in the Taming the Muse writing challenge. The prompt was the word chimera. Merriam Webster's definition of chimera was this: An imaginary monster compounded of incongruous parts. 2): An illusion or fabrication of the mind; _especially_ an unrealizable dream. Thanks for reading.

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_The timing of death, like the ending of a story, gives a changed meaning to what preceded it._

Mary Catherine Bateson, With a Daughter's Eye, 1984

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Her type was a patchwork of layers sloppily stacked over each other and affixed together. Names blurred with faces, old places, and feelings. Bits of one mixed with bits of another all sticky pasted together. A special face from her past on a different body. Different hands, tongues, dicks, but always the same face. It wasn't supposed to be that way, she knew, but sometimes a certain type of person made it easier on her.

Faith hated blondes.

Savoring the overpowering thump of loud music, she kept her gaze steady as she moved through the crowded club. Men, women, Faith took them all in the same. She was prowling for something different than most of the barflies tonight.

Two in the morning and it seemed to Faith that the entire under thirty crowd of Cleveland had turned out to party. Just her luck.

Skirting the dance floor, she glanced at each person and took his or her measure in between the strobe flashes. Not conscious of exactly what she was looking for, Faith relied on instinct to guide her to the right person for what she needed. Never a deep thinker, she knew her body would find it.

Over the years she had developed different cravings to satisfy her different moods. A good Saturday night out happened when mood met taste. Redheads were pure fun. Even the most vanilla redhead had a crazy streak buried somewhere underneath the freckles that would give her a good run. Find the right spark, the right button to press, and Faith would spend days waiting for the scratches and cuts on her body to heal.

Seeing only sweaty guys using good music as an excuse to grope drunk girls, Faith turned away from the dance floor and continued on to the bar. She pushed through the tight throng of people gathered around reordering drinks.

Brunettes were a hard read. They straddled the middle ground between the fun crazy of red hair and the psycho bitch land the last type occupied. A brunette could be a friend just as easily as an executioner. The trick was knowing which one was home on any given night.

Faith looked in the mirror behind the bar and smiled. Target found. She slid onto a stool next to the unsuspecting light haired girl.

Of all the types, Faith hated blondes the most. Never met a good one in her life. A redhead would give her a fun go around; a brunette would bang her senseless; but only a blonde would stick her, bleed her, and then kick her when she was down.

Once, while in the pen, a wide-eyed blonde had latched onto her looking for protection. That was the way it worked there; the weak found a nice big sister to look after them if they were lucky. She was cool for a while, almost made Faith rethink her no blondes rule, but in the end it was the same deal. Bitch decided she was better than her big sister.

"Two shots of Absolut," Faith ordered, throwing a crumpled twenty dollar bill on the bar top. The girl next to her gave a sidelong glance.

Tall with pale skin and hair the girl was young, probably too young to even legally be in the club but pretty enough to get around that rule. She wore tight pants and a pink top that offered a healthy amount of cleavage to the viewing public.

The bartender set two shots down in front of Faith. The slayer picked up one, studied the clear liquid for a moment, and then downed it in one swallow. She closed her eyes and smiled as the heat went through her chest and settled in her stomach. Her throat tingled with the afterglow of it.

Faith slid the second shot glass to the side. "You gonna let me drink alone?"

The girl smiled. "Thought you'd never ask. Watched you before—seemed like you were looking for something." She downed the shot easily; young but knew the game.

"Just looking for someone to catch my eye," Faith said. "Get that right vibe from them, ya know?."

The blonde circled the rim of the glass with one finger. "Find anything?"

"Couple of prospects." Faith looked at the girl. "One sure thing."

"Really? This whole place and only one that's your type?"

Faith leaned toward her. "You know how it is. If I had my way we'd make our own types. Instead we're stuck with what we get handed. And only a certain kind does it for me."

"That would be the way to do it," she said. "Take only the best from past lovers. Make yourself the perfect mate."

"Yeah, something like that." Green eyes, Faith noted. She loved when it was so easy for her. That blonde-headed bitch in the pen had green eyes, too. She licked her lips. "What do ya say we blow this joint? Music's so loud I can't think."

The blonde looked Faith over, no doubt searching for a match to whatever the twat considered _her_ type. Faith didn't worry—at two in the morning she was everyone's type. "Fine by me. Where do you want to go?"

Faith glanced at the drunken crowd. They were clueless to half of what went down in their hellmouth of a town. Without her on the job, any of them were likely to end up dinner. "Anywhere is better," she said. "Let's get outside and see where it goes from there."

Together they left the empty shotglasses on the bar top and pushed through the throng. Prize in hand Faith didn't bother paying attention to individuals now. She was ready to do what she did best. Enjoying a grin from the bouncer, Faith followed the blonde outside.

"This way." The girl pulled her away from the club entrance and down a nearby alley. Faith gave in willingly as she was pushed back against the brick wall.

"You should know," she said, "I don't usually go in for the sub side of these things."

"Really?" The girl looked at her hungrily. "So what _do_ you like?"

Faith reached into pocket of her jeans. "Depends on the kink." She moved in close. "Sometimes people like to hurt and sometimes I like to cause the hurt."

The girl ran her cold fingertips gently down the side of Faith's face. "You feel like hurting me?"

The slayer leaned into the touch. "Here's the thing," she said. "I just have this deal with blondes—_a_ blonde really. Can't fuck her…can't kill her…so I guess you'll just have to do in her place."

With speed and strength behind it, Faith pulled the stake from her pocket and drove it into the blonde's chest. The girl stumbled back, looked down at the wooden weapon still protruding from her body, and then back to Faith. Astonishment clouded over the arousal in her eyes.

And then she collapsed into dust.

Faith bent and retrieved her stake from the pile of ash. "Sorry, sweetie, guess you weren't my type after all."

Brushing her clothes clean, Faith walked from the alley and out into the Cleveland night. Five girls dead, drained of blood, in five nights all around the same club. New vampire on the hunt in its old party-going stomping grounds. Most of Robin's squad were too young to be much good in the club scene so the dirty work fell to big sister.

Faith took one last glance over her shoulder at the dust quickly blowing away. She was always happy to help.

**End**


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